


There, There.

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Childhood issues, Complicated Relationships, Drunk Sex, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Vane shows up on Jack's doorstep and it always goes the same way.





	There, There.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this prompt from a HUNDRED YEARS AGO that I was saving, and this was the right inspiration/good week for it. So here it finally is. Sorry about the delay and I hope you still enjoy it Jack/Vane anon!
> 
> Written for the prompt: i would looove to see jack/vane fic from you where, after things go south with eleanor (once again), vane comes to jack for him to pick up the pieces. all my headcanons for them are angsty and tragic and bittersweet, oops

There's a dull thudding at the door, as though someone's made a fist and then forgotten how to do anything but bang it repetitively into the door frame. Jack does his best to ignore it, the thudding echoes loudly, making his skull ache.

"Just a moment." Jack says irritably. He drags on his breeches, holding them up, not bothering to find his belt as he makes his way over to the door. "I swear to christ-" he stops as he sees the sight in front of him.

"Charles Vane."

Vane grins at him mirthlessly through a haze of smoke and rum, his hair falling over his face, his shirt half off his body. There are scratches down the front of his chest that make Jack’s lips thin. He already knows what sort of night it's been simply from that.

Vane brushes past Jack into his room.

"Where's your rum?"

"Nice to see you too, Jack. It's been a while. Lovely weather we're having." Jack kicks the door shut and turns to lean his back against it as he watches Charles lurch around the room looking for any sign of drink. His breeches ride low on his hips, exposing the cleft of his ass. Jack gazes at it and then looks anywhere else. He doesn’t need this in his life, yet he always opens his door.

"Stop fucking around and tell me where the rum is." Charles slurs, careening into the table. He stumbles backward with a groan, hitting the wall.

"You're already more than properly soused." Jack observes. "Let me guess. The lovely Miss Guthrie has declined your affections yet again." Or she indulged them and then kicked him out when she had had her fill. The scratches were fresh. He imagines touching them.

"Don't talk about her." Vane growls lurching forward.

"I'm merely speaking the truth." Jack says offhandedly. "Let me tell you."

"No, you listen." Vane's across the room suddenly one hand around his throat. His eyes are abruptly focused and dark, his fingers tight as he leans his forearm into Jack's chest. "Not one more word about her, out of your mouth. Do you understand?"

Jack gurgles, reaching both hands up to try to pry Vane's finger from his throat. "Charless, Charlesss."

Vane simply leans in closer. "Do you understand?" his breath is warm on Jack's cheek, and then one of his hands is gone, dropping down between Jack's legs

After a moment Vane's hands waver, and then one slides down between Jack's legs.

Jack exhales shakily. "Is that really what you want to be doing?" Now? Of all times?

Vane answers by squeezing his balls, lightly, enough to remind Jack that he could do serious harm if he were of mind to, rough enough to be this side of pleasurable. Jack stifles down his moan, trying to keep upright against the door as Vane’s grasp slides into simply pleasurable territory.

"Very well." Jack says softly, his eyes on Vane's face. "We both know where this ends up."

"Shut up." Vane growls, leaning in to kiss him at last. 

They do both know where this road takes them; they've traveled it before. If Jack had more pride, perhaps he wouldn't let Charles in on nights like this, after Eleanor Guthrie has sunk her teeth into his heart and torn it to shreds. He can't blame the girl, and yet he does, for he himself can't deny Charles anything. Especially on nights like this. Not when he's like this. 

There's something of his father about that, that Jack knows too, and he firmly refuses to think about it or examine it in the clear light of day. He doesn't want to dwell on the fact that his father fuckrf his life away, wasting it to nothing, and that there are times, oh yes, there are times, when he fears that Charles is destined to go the same way. Perhaps that's why he continues to let him in, the theory that if he's there to prop Charles up on his feet again, he'll never truly fall, he'll never truly fail, and he'll never truly be abandoned. Not by Jack Rackham at any rate.

"You're thinking too much." Vane's mouth is hot on his neck and Jack stifles another moan.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you did just encourage me to shut up, did you not?"

"When you're too quiet, I know you're up to something." Vane tells him.

Charles simply shrugs, and pulls him over to the bed. He pushes Jack down on his back and climbs atop him, fumbling his breeches open. Jack lies there, letting him.

Vane kisses him, messy, rubbing against him, like a cat, Jack thinks oddly. Vane’s own cock is already hard. If he did get off with Ms Guthrie, he’s more than ready for round two. Or maybe it's Jack he always wants, and Jack alone who makes him hard. There are moments when Jack lets himself indulge these fantasies. 

But Jack also wants to make him forget. He wants Charles to come to him first, and not as an afterthought. He pushes Charles off him, rolling him onto his back. “Stay still.”

“Jack, Jack, Jack-o.” Charles croons, laughing a little. “Want your cock, Jack.” He reaches for it, squeezing fondly.

“It’s all for you.” Jack says mirthlessly. “After all, it’s not as though it’s in particularly high demand at the moment.”

“Good.” Charles says. “More for me.” He smirks up at Jack and Jack can’t help laughing.

“Goddamnit, Charles.”

Vane stares up at him, and then he reaches for Jack, drawing him down to his body, pressing against him. He wraps a leg around Jack, pulling him close. He slips a hand between their bodies, closing over both of them. Jack moans as Charles strokes them. For a man who’s clearly had a bit much to drink, he’s remarkably good at this. The friction of them sliding against each other is driving Jack wild. He bites Charles’s shoulder, pressing down hard, leaving a scattering of marks across Charles’s skin. He can leave his mark on Charles too.

Charles kisses him as he moves their cocks faster, until Jack jerks in his grasp, spilling over their hands, Charles’s cock follows, their mess mingling together.

They lie there on the bed, Charles is already half asleep, his body draped over Jack’s.

Jack’s fully awake now. It’s always like this. Charles sleeps it off, and in the morning, he’ll act as though it was solely because he felt like it, and Jack will let him keep up the fiction.

 

 

 


End file.
